Monday, May 4, 2009

Things Are Only Things

It is amazing how much power I can give to inanimate objects. A candle, a dress, a pocket knife, a table...

These are just some of the things recently that either I cannot dispose of or that holds some deep connotation within it. I started thinking then about everything around me. And the reason for those meanings...

I honestly want to dispose of everything in my possession. I hate the feeling of being bogged down and trapped by what I own. So as I rid myself of things, some stick out and guilt prevents me from dropping them. I hold no emotion for things. Honestly, I thought I did. And I will admit, there are a few things that remind me of certain people that I will never let go of. But the table my mom and dad bought me when I moved into my first apartment? I want to sell it. Which seems to break my mother's heart. I have no use for it now, being a nomad and all. I have nowhere to store it, nor the means to rent a place to store it.

And the wedding dress. It is just a dress to me. Just a dress. I am going to sell it or donate it. But certain people want me to store it away. And I just do not see the point. Why would I need to keep something like that? Even if unforeseeably I do remarry (bah), I would not wear the same dress. And why would I want that memory taking up space in my already too small closet?

The candle. The candle now sits on my Demon's bureau. We burn it every so often. But now it is just a candle. Burnt along with other candles. It is not special. It holds no happy or sad connotations. It is just a candle.

Everything we own becomes a memory holder. But clinging to the object does not bring back that day, that moment, or that person. Nor should we want it to do that. I am thankful it doesn't.

I was talked into keeping my wedding dress. It does come in handy for when I want to remember how skinny I used to be. And for when I want a good reminder of how mind fucked I got by the guy I bought it for. What a waste. Some memories you should do without.

That's exactly what I think Terry. All the memories I really care about I keep stored inside. I keep papa's pocket knife because he carried it in his pocket. And I want something he touched. So to me that's different.

Pearl, let's burn the dresses together!! I didn't know you went through what I did in that respect either...

This Is Me

A sequel, a continuation of a blog I started long ago that ended abruptly. God knows what you will find here. I write short stories, I write about my life, I give my opinions freely about the world around me. It'll be like South Park - anything goes. And just as satirical.